Both Human
by Minyrama
Summary: They could not grieve, not yet. They were guardians, after all. If they were not strong, who were?" Sometimes Gokudera needs reminding that he is, only human. 8059, spoilers from the TYL arc.


**Note: **I'm an avid 8018 fan. However, 18 is a freaking hard character to portray, especially with anything involving romance. (80 is hard to write about too, which is crazy considering how simple he seems.) But since 59 is easier, I wrote 8059. :3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters. They belong to Amano Akira and the manga Katekyou Hitman Reborn.

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Losing a loved one is an indescribable feeling. Those who have experienced it cannot forget it, the pain having been carved into their very being. Those who haven't cannot possibly begin to imagine it. This was such a day for the Vongola Famiglia.

Hitched breaths and muffled sobs echoed from the end of the dark hallway leading to the Emergency Surgery room. The girls huddled together on one side, the men spacing themselves out on the other. They could not grieve, not yet. They were guardians, after all. If they were not strong, who were?

Yet as those blue doors swung open, the doctor walking out in bloody scrubs, a forlorn expression on his face, his head shaking from side to side, no traces of strength could be found. There were only cries of agony, tears, and bitterness. It was like the floor had been pulled out from beneath them.

And that wasn't very far from the truth.

--

Gokudera lay on his bed five hours later, a packet of cigarettes lying beside him. He stared at the plain ceiling and absentmindedly chewed on his lip. He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, because then there would only be darkness. And if he stared into that nothingess, he could still _see_, see those familiar brown eyes that radiated with happiness. He could still _hear_, hear that familiar welcoming voice. He could still _feel_, feel those familiar warm hands on his shoulder. He could even _smell_ that familiar sharp aftershave.

Only they weren't so familiar anymore.

He sighed and reached out for another cigarette. He needed to get it together. He was the Right Hand man, after all. If he wasn't composed, who was?

--

Yamamoto stood just meters away from a pair of grand oak doors. He shuffled uncomfortably, loosening and readjusting his tie, fixing his collar, straightening his suit jacket. With a final breath, he pushed open the doors and stepped into the chilly room, smiling. He weaved through the crowd of strangers and associates, greeting the occasional friend, and took his place at the front of the room between Gokudera and Hibari, willing himself not to look at the casket behind him. He was the Rain Guardian, after all. If he didn't smile, who would?

--

"The Tenth was a great man, who understood matters that no one could. He respected everyone, treated everyone as a dear friend. Yes, he was, still is, the Tenth head of the Vongola, but he will forever be remembered as a member of our family, and a man of great caliber. Never shall we forget his achievements, never shall we forget the lessons he has taught us, and never shall we forget the warmth he has provided us all." Gokudera's voice did not tremble, did not waver. It rang firm and strong. He was the one who volunteered to speak on behalf of Tsuna. He wouldn't have it any other way.

--

During the banquet after the funeral, the guardians sat at the head of the table and quietly picked at their food. None of them said a word. None of them wished to hear the comforting words people had spouted at them. Because they didn't need that, didn't need reassurance or support. They were strong. They were guardians. They were lying.

--

Three days after the funeral, there was a knock on Gokudera's door. When he answered, he was faced with a solemn Yamamoto and a heart full of grief.

"What do you want?"

"Hey…I just dropped by…can I come in?" Yamamoto's lips formed a rigid line, as if they had been frozen in place.

"Whatever." Gokudera turned and trudged into the kitchen, Yamamoto following behind. The air was tense and heavy, neither knowing quite how to begin. Yamamoto broke the silence.

"…How are you doing?"

Emerald green eyes shuffled to the swordsman's face. The Italian scowled, fingers gripping Yamamoto's lapels and slamming him against the wall.

"How the fuck do you think I'm doing!?" He snarled, narrowing his eyes. "I'll tell you how I'm doing; I'm in the fucking pits of hell! What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Yamamoto?! Tell me! Tell me now before I go fucking insane!"

Yamamoto only stared at the Italian, his hands clutching at the ones on his coat. Dark brown to emerald green, they held no answers.

"Well!? Speak you asshole! You showed up at my door, give me some answers!" Tears blurred Gokudera's vision, his words now coming out in ragged whispers.

"Tell me…" he trailed off, slowly sinking to his knees. "Fuck…tell me…"

The swordsman stooped down and wrapped firm arms around Gokudera's shoulders, holding him tightly as if to prevent him from falling apart.

"I don't know, Gokudera. I'm sorry."

The Italian raised his clenched fists, throwing them against Yamamoto's chest, each punch growing weaker.

"That's not what I wanted to hear damnit! You're supposed to smile, smile and say something idiotic so that I can beat you up for it! You're supposed to smile and make us laugh! Smile so that we can laugh together again!" Gokudera rambled, unable to think clearly anymore. Tears rolled down his face as he clung to Yamamoto, burying his head in Yamamoto's chest.

"Gokudera…it hurts to smile…" The swordsman uttered slowly, his voice bordering on a whisper and a sob. "I can't smile anymore."

"You have to, you fucking bastard! You have to!" The Italian cried, desperately clinging to something he hoped would never change. "You have to, you're fucking Yamamoto, for God's sake!"

Yamamoto said nothing, only held Gokudera tighter, closing his eyes and exhaling with one shaky breath.

"Damnit, why did you come? Now look at me! Why the fuck did you come? I'm the Right Hand man, I can't be like this! I'm the Storm Guardian!" Gokudera's voice was only a hushed whisper. "I can't…be like this…"

"Gokudera, you're human." The Rain Guardian murmured slowly. "You're human."

The Italian froze. He was the Right Hand man, the Storm Guardian, the invincible Gokudera. But he was also human? How does that work?"

"Fucker…you fucker." Gokudera pulled away from strong arms, snarling. Dark brown to emerald green, they held no answers.

"Yes, you fucker! I am human! I'm human and I'm a pathetic fuck who needs support! I had the Tenth before, now what?!"

Yamamoto's hands reached up to hold the Italian's chin. Dark brown to emerald green.  
"You have me, Gokudera." The swordsman's eyes were dry, but his words were hesitant, fingers were trembling. "And I have you, right?"

Gokudera's mouth twitched, eyes now filling up with tears again. He slumped into Yamamoto's embrace.

"You fucker…I hate you…"

"Love you too, Hayato."

The Italian raised his head, dark brown to emerald green. They held all the answers. Slowly, they closed the distance between them, until there were only feathery light kisses to prove that the other really existed, that they were really in each other's arms.

"You idiot. You have to smile." The Italian pleaded. "You have to smile."

"I can't…not now."

"You have to. If it hurts, be a fucking man and swallow it. …Because I'll be here." The last sentence was said slowly, quietly. Gokudera knew he didn't have to say it, that Yamamoto knew he was always be. Callused hands wrapped around his waist, strong yet frail.

"Yeah…" Yamamoto murmured, lips turning up into a weak smile. "Yeah, I know."

The two lingered in each other's arms, too scared to let go. And they didn't have to, they knew. One of them was the Right Hand man of the Tenth head of the Vongola family, the Storm Guardian, the never-faltering Gokudera. The other was the Rain Guardian, the always-smiling Yamamoto.

But they were both human, after all. If they didn't mourn, who would?


End file.
